Chapter 2: The Terms of Surrender

The silence of the house was broken only by the sound of Samantha’s own breathing.

Damon had left her to "settle in," but the room she had been assigned felt less like a bedroom and more like a high-end gallery exhibit. Everything was cream silk and polished wood.

​A light knock at the door startled her. It wasn't the housekeeper.

​Damon stood in the hallway, holding a leather-bound folder. He didn't wait for an invitation; he stepped inside, his presence immediately making the large room feel small.

​"We need to discuss the house rules, Samantha. I don't run a hotel, and I certainly don't run a charity."

​"I'm well aware of that," she said, crossing her arms. "Let's hear them. Do I have a curfew? Or do I need to ask permission to breathe the air in the East Wing?"

​Damon set the folder on the dresser. "Sarcasm is a defense mechanism. It’s beneath you.

Rule number one: Total transparency. Your devices are now mirrored to my server. If you’re talking to your friends Kim or Mark, I will know. If you’re looking up legal loopholes to break your father’s contract, I will know."

​Samantha’s jaw dropped. "That’s illegal. That’s a total invasion of privacy!"

​"You surrendered your privacy when you signed the Rosewood Power of Attorney over to me," Damon said calmly.

He stepped closer, his eyes tracking the way her chest rose and fell with her indignant breaths.

"Rule number two: The Social Mask. My family—specifically my stepmother, Eleanor—is looking for a reason to tear you apart. You will attend every function at my side. You will look perfect, you will look happy, and you will look mine."

​"I'm not a doll, Damon."

​"Then stop acting like one and start playing the game," he countered. His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned down.

"Rule number three: You do not leave the grounds of The Atrium without my personal escort.

Aethelgard is a small country, but it is full of people who would love to use you to get to me."

​"Is that for my safety? Or your control?"

​"Does it matter?" Damon reached out, his thumb catching a stray strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. The touch was brief, but it felt like an electric shock.

"There is one more thing. I know you’ve always wanted a German Shepherd. Your father told me."

​Samantha blinked, caught off guard. "How do you... why does that matter?"

​"A dog is coming tomorrow. Kaiser. He is trained for protection. He will be yours."

​"A bribe?" she whispered.

​"An anchor," he corrected. "I want you to have something here that makes you want to stay. Even if that something is a beast."

​He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "Dinner is at eight. Wear something that isn't green. I'm tired of looking at it."

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